“I’d ha’ done it ef it had been
fifty,” cried the woman, angrily, “when
he wuz in trouble. Oh, God! Oh, God!
Don’t yer b’leeve it? Then look here!”
She picked up the smallest child as she spoke, and
in the dim light the men saw that its little feet
were torn and bleeding. “’Twas their blood
or his’n,” cried the woman, rapidly, “an’
I didn’t know how to choose between ’em.
God hev mercy on me! I’m nigh crazy!”

Caney, of Texas, took the child from its mother and
carried it to where the moonlight was unobstructed.
He looked carefully at its feet, and then shouted:

“Bring the prisoner out here.”

Two men carried Bowney to where Caney was standing,
and the whole party, with the woman and remaining
children, followed.

“Bill,” said Caney, “I ain’t
a askin’ yer to go back on yer friends, but
them is—­look at ’em.”

And Caney held the child’s feet before the father’s
eyes, while the woman threw her arms around his neck,
and the two older children crept up to the prisoner,
and laid their faces against his legs.

The desperado turned his eyes away; but Caney moved
the child so its bleeding feet were still before its
father’s eyes.

The remaining men all retired beneath the shadow of
the tree, for the tender little feet were talking
to them, too, and they were ashamed of the results.

Suddenly Bowney uttered a deep groan.

“’Tain’t no use a-tryin’,”
said he, in a resigned tone. “Everybody’ll
be down on me, an’ after all I’ve done,
too! But yer ken hev their names, curse yer!”

The woman went into hysterics; the children cried;
Caney, of Texas, ejaculated, “Bully!”
and then kissed the poor little bruised feet.

The New Englander fervently exclaimed, “Thank
God!”

“I’ll answer fur him till we get ’em,”
said Caney, after the major had written down the names
Bowney gave him; “an’,” continued
Caney, “somebody git the rest of these young
uns an’ ther mother to my cabin powerful quick.
Good Lord, don’t I jist wish they wuz boys!
I’d adopt the hull family.”

The court informally adjourned sine die, but
had so many meetings afterward at the same place to
dispose of Bowney’s accomplices, that his freedom
was considered fairly purchased, and he and his family
were located a good way from the scenes of his most
noted exploits.

[Illustration]

MR. PUTCHETT’S LOVE.

Just after two o’clock, on a July afternoon,
Mr. Putchett mounted several steps of the Sub-Treasury
in Wall Street, and gazed inquiringly up and down
the street.